babies · body image · daughters · death · motherhood · religion · sons · teething

Who Has It Harder? Me or Mine? (from the Momplex Blog archives)

Exhibit A
ME: I spent most of yesterday spray painting a loft bed for my 5-year-old. Long story short, I kept running out of paint, had to wedge multiple hardware-store trips between naps and preschool stuff, and ended up inadvertently turning our new driveway pink. My arms ache terribly from spraypainting the whole freaking day away. Because it was breezy and I didn’t cover up, I also look like I have a spray-on sunburn. Alas, I learned that I’m getting so old that, in my world, spraypainting a bed is now tantamount to summiting Everest.

HER: Wandered out into the living room while I had the TV on regular television (that is, not PBS). We never have regular televison on when she’s nearby. I had left for a moment to switch a load of laundry, and when I returned, all I could hear from the tube was a horror story about a terrorist attack on a wedding somewhere in the Middle East. “The bride, groom, and four children were killed in the attack,” said the voice. Alas, she learned that people actually kill other people, including children.

HIM: Crapped his pants twice in one day. And there were whole black beans in it that looked like they were straight out of the can, which can’t feel right. Can it? Alas, he learned what it feels like to poop whole beans.

EXHIBIT B
ME: Forgot not only the baby’s 9-month well-baby checkup on Thursday, but also my first formal banjo lesson. Alas, I learned that my life is falling into some disarray due to my lifelong lack of good organizational skills.

HER: I was joking with my parents about John Cougar Mellencamp’s line “…taught to fear Jesus in a small town.” It just struck me as funny that he was taught to fear the wrong entity. Isn’t God supposed to be the fearsome one, and Jesus supposed to be his more affable incarnation? No, no, my Dad explained. It’s Jesus who sits at the right hand of God, judges people, and casts the rotten ones out of Heaven and into the fires of Hell. Well, he didn’t say it quite like that, but very nearly. My 5-year-old was sitting right there listening. Alas, she learned that she isn’t necessarily going to Heaven, where her dead and much-missed cat Abby is waiting for her.

HIM: Got two new teeth, which blistered something ugly and took a long time to finally erupt. Alas, he learned that some pain can’t be assuaged and must be endured.

EXHIBIT C
ME: Finally realized that I am stuck at 10 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight, despite being vaguely hungry all day for the past two months as well as eating more healthy things like acorn squash. And more acorn squash. Also, acorn squash. Alas, I learned that the wine consumption must be cut.

HER: Until recently, she thought all surgical procedures involved private parts but certainly not the removal of anything. This goes back to my husband getting his vasectomy. I do not recall either of us going into any specifics, but we must have given her enough information to deduce that his “privates” were involved. Anyway, my dad recently had his gall bladder removed, so he asked her if she’d like to see the scars. Terrified, she declined. My dad went ahead and explained the essence of what he’d had done, and inquired whether she knew what a gall bladder was. Embarassed and worried, she nodded yes and said, “Private parts.” Alas, she learned that people sometimes need to have whole parts of their body removed — perhaps (in her mind) even their private parts.

HIM: Started spitting up again. Alas, he learned that sometimes you have to sit in your own cold, curdled upchuck for a while before somebody notices and cleans you up.

So, who has it harder these days? The kids or me?
I think they win.

babies · Lazy posts · motherhood · teething

Live, from the Teething Colosseum (from the Momplex Blog archives)

First there were larvae. They came in a cup in an envelope in the mail. The cup was full of some sort of food, and the larvae ate it, night and day. The composition of what was in the cup slowly changed over a couple of weeks, until we saw less and less food, bigger and bigger caterpillars, and more and more pink balls of caterpillar poo. After weeks of eating, the caterpillars crawled to the top of the jar and created their chrysalides. We watched and waited, waited and watched, knowing it should take about a week for the final metamorphoses. Today, our butterflies emerged: six painted ladies, with wings of orange and black and white. I even got to witness one emergence from the very start to the very finish, how the butterfly poked its head out of its chrysalis, then did a sort of sit up to get the rest of her body out. Her wings were stunted and dark and wrinkly, but as she filled them with blood, as meconium (yes, meconium! bloody butterfly meconium!) dropped out of her, she grew wide and lovely.

Ever read When the Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd? It’s about the author’s spiritual crisis at mid-life. At the beginning, deep in distress over a seeming loss of faith, she snagged a cocoon she saw on a nearby tree and brought it to her home. She kept referring back to that cocoon throughout the novel, making it a metaphor for the spiritual catharsis she was experiencing. Eventually the butterfly emerged, and the author went from faithless to faithful again.

You know what I was thinking the whole time I watched our beautiful butterflies emerging? Despite my own spiritual troubles, I wasn’t thinking about metamorphoses. I was realizing it took LESS time for Sue Monk Kidd to find God again, took less time for freaking larvae to pupate, grow wings, triple-double-quadruple themselves in size, and transform into completely new incarnations of themselves than it is taking for our baby’s top teeth to cut through. ‘Cause I’m glass half full like that, babies. Seriously, the little dude began teething his first top four teeth around the time those larvae arrived. I’ve seen the blisters and the little white spots for weeks, gone through a fair share of Orajel and Tylenol and mad crying at odd hours of the night, but only one tooth has busted through, and just this morning at that.

Other things that have taken less time than this teething episode include: the writing of the Declaration of Independence, the entire Greco-Turkish War, the papal conclave’s full deliberation over the most recent papal successor, and the writing of Jack Kerouac’s classic On the Road. Oh, and the construction of ancient Rome. Well, never mind that last one. It just feels that way. We all know Rome wasn’t built in a day. I guess toothy smiles aren’t either.

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